


The Cupboard

by Requin



Category: Holby City
Genre: Berena Mashed Potato Ficathon, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 17:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14574186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Requin/pseuds/Requin
Summary: Serena has worked with hundreds of men just like Duval. And she's tired.





	The Cupboard

**Author's Note:**

> It's Duval's turn, and he's managed to antagonise everyone in like 5 episode, well done!

Serena really doesn’t need this. 

She’s overworked, exhausted, and she’s late meeting with Jason and Greta. She misses Bernie like crazy, and she’s at the end of a 12-hour shift that felt like it would never end. 

So when she sees Xavier Duval’s bare bum between Dr Chowdhury’s legs, going up and down amongst the supply shelves in the AAU cupboard, she snaps. 

“You have three seconds to get dressed and to come to my office, or you’re fired,” she says coldly. 

The mad scramble she sees before she slams the door would be comical if not for the anger coursing her veins. She stalks through the ward to her office and enters it like a whirlwind. 

She waits. 

Mr Duval strides in without knocking, his hands up in obvious apology but his eyes full of merriment. The sight makes Serena clench her jaw. Meena is practically hiding behind him, red with embarrassment. 

“Wait outside Dr Chowdhury,” Serena says. 

She stays silent until the young doctor closes the door behind her, and she turns towards Mr Duval, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. 

“Well?” She asks. 

“It was totally inappropriate, and I apologise, Ms Campbell. I promise it won’t happen again.”

The words, she likes. The tone, however, not so much. The cocky bastard is way too confident and arrogant for his own good, and Serena has worked with hundreds of men just like him. And she’s tired. 

She draws herself up and gives him a tight smile. 

“Do you know what I spent my evening doing, Mr Duval?” She starts to say, her voice dangerously low. “I had a crying mother in my arms because her son died in a car crash. Her entire life changed tonight, a young boy lost his life, and what were you doing? You were having sex two rooms over,” she spits out. 

Mr Duval lowers his eyes, then. Finally, some remorse. 

“I don’t care if you think Dr Chowdhury is the best thing that’s happened since they started serving Italian Shiraz at Albie’s. Keep it off my ward!”

He shifts on his feet. Mumbles something under his breath. Serena leans forward, her arms still crossed. 

“Speak up, Mr Duval. Surely we have no secrets from each other now.” 

He looks up with a bit more defiance. 

“I said, I thought you met your partner here,” he says sullenly. 

Serena wonders who shared that bit of information. She’s starting to get a little tired of people thinking it’s fine to comment on her love life. But Bernie is wearing scrubs in the photo she keeps on her desk, so she guesses it’s not much of a secret. 

She’s also heard some pretty unsavoury things about Mr Duval and his thoughts on anything a little outside his straight male comfort zone. “Just try me,” she thinks. 

But he doesn’t say anything else, just lets the statement hang there. 

“I did. We never compromised our workplace, though. People die here, Mr Duval. And the germs alone,” she says with a moue of disgust. 

He winces. Serena sighs, shakes her head. The man is a good doctor. He is skilled. He is an excellent surgeon. But his attitude sets her on edge on the best of days. 

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to send you on a workplace behaviour seminar,” she decides.

Mr Duval squawks his disapproval, but another unimpressed eyebrow shuts him up. Serena checks her computer monitor and hums happily.

“And will you look at that? There’s one next week! You’ll be attending with Steve from accounting, we all know why he’s going, and with that porter who always whistles at passing women,” Serena says a little too gleefully perhaps. 

Mr Duval groans. Serena waves her hand to dismiss him. 

“Have fun. Learn something. And send Dr Chowdhury in on your way out.” 

He glowers for a second but leaves with a huff. Meena walks in with her head low and wringing her hands. 

“I am so, so sorry, Ms Campbell! It won’t ever happen again. I can’t believe I was that stupid and unprofessional.”

And on it goes, a tumble of words, a whole two minutes of apologies and self-flagellation. Serena waits and when Meena finally takes a breath, she holds her hand up. 

“Yes, thank you Dr Chowdhury.” 

Meena shuts up and looks at her like a kicked puppy. 

“Now, I’m not going to tell you about how careless that was, and how damaging to your career. You obviously know. I’m going to tell you what I tell every female F1. It’s harder for women. There’s no denying it. Stay focused. Work hard. Don’t throw it all away because of some attractive registrar. I’m not saying you should live like a nun, but use your brain, Dr Chowdhury! Be smart!” Serena thunders. 

Meena is nodding like a broken puppet, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. Serena smiles and squeezes the younger woman’s shoulder. 

“Your AAU rotation starts next month, right? I’ll be right here if you have any questions or if you need help, all right?”

Meena nods again, so relieved it makes Serena laugh. 

“Off you go, then. I need to go and bleach my eyes.” 

Meena sputters and leaves, red as her scrubs. 

Serena shakes her head, puts her coat on, grabs her phone. 

Bernie is going to die of laughter. Serena hopes she’s on form, because while they were never intimate at their place of work, Serena’s been entertaining some pretty detailed fantasies of them in her office chair, clothing optional. She wonders if Bernie would like to hear all about them. 

She bets she does.


End file.
